


High Hopes Low Satisfaction

by Goldstone_Wolf



Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [21]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), High Hopes Low Rolls (Web Series)
Genre: AU, And I mean like the AU where even I don't really know how to classify it, Angst, Angst without a happy ending, Arranged Marriage, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Most of the characters only show up in cameos, Not Actually Unrequited Love, also I think Rook is actually a wizard but i referred to him as a warlock in the story, but i'm too lazy to change it so yeah you'll have to deal with that, i guess, lonely footsteps on cobblestones are the aesthetics of the brokenhearted, multiple unimportant ocs are featured, sorry about that, sort of based off the hamilton musical, which was really fun i might make an animatic while i'm at this, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf
Summary: Rook Lunera and Gwing Veloce were like milk and cookies, hot chocolate and nighttime fireplaces, Zenya and bacon. Sure, you could have one without the other, but they were always better together. And the two were almost inseparable (Rook and Gwing, not the other stuff).At least, that’s what Rook thought.
Relationships: Rook Lunera/Gwing Veloce
Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692196
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	High Hopes Low Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> More angst as I figure out how to finish the sequel chapter of “High Hopes High Sacrifice” (I have an idea but other than that I haven’t written a single thing down; on the bright side I know where I’m going with one of the shorter stories and I’m visiting my grandparents in LA next week so I’ll have the time to scribble that one out pretty quick and then work on another one). Jumping on the Gwook/Ring/etc train for once b/c why not. Slightly inspired by the Hamilton soundtracks songs called “Satisfied” and “Nonstop”.  
> There is an AU in so many little details that I can’t even point them out anymore, so…yeah. There you go.  
> TW for random OC(s) that aren’t important and possibly some other stuff like that (if I missed any, please let me know).

Rook Lunera and Gwing Veloce were the best of friends.

They were like milk and cookies, hot chocolate and nighttime fireplaces, Zenya and bacon. Sure, you could have one without the other, but they were always better together. And the two were almost inseparable.

(Rook and Gwing, that is, not the other stuff).

They climbed trees together. They went to the infirmary together so that Rook’s broken limb could be healed after he fell out of trees. They went and got food together. They were almost inseparable.

At least, they were until the Revolution started.

Her parents were on one side of the fighting line, while Rook’s mother and brothers were on the opposites. Gwing’s family fled, while Rook’s older brothers sacrificed their lives for their freedoms. When the Veloce family returned, things were different. They were still just as prominent, if not more so, and wealthy.

Perhaps that was where the problem was.

When they were younger, Rook and Gwing had thought they were invincible just like every other kid. They could run and climb and break the rules into a thousand pieces. They could fly in their imaginations and see worlds where older people simply saw toys and puddles and sticks. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t last. One day, their wings would be clipped. It was the inevitability of a world that stifled creativity in favour of something else. Of course, Rook and Gwing didn’t know this. They were going to be friends and be that close forever.

At least, that’s what Rook had thought.

+++

When Gwing first saw Rook, after twelve years of being apart (due to the Revolution and then simply being busy), she didn’t recognise him.

Of course, part of that had to do with the fact he was wearing a mask, and they were at a masquerade. She supposed there was some leeway there. Part of her wondered if she should have recognised him anyways, seeing as he was out of place for such a fancy party. But her father _had_ invited some of the “rebels” from the streets, so it wasn’t that surprising.

He wasn’t doing _nearly_ as much damage as some of his friends.

As she walked towards the white dragonborn and the dark-haired dwarf currently wrecking one of the family chandeliers (an heirloom from her aunt, who was annoying and absolutely deserved to have one of her precious “heirlooms” broken), she noticed him standing off to the side. He was speaking with some other rebels, a group of wood elves called the Whitlaws. They could be considered nobility, although they weren’t quite that. Either way, they ruled justly, so it wasn’t like they were a danger (or like she cared that much).

He was wearing much finer clothes than she had expected (obviously something that the Whitlaws had gifted him; she’d heard before that they had taken Rook in after his family had…left him behind in the world, but she didn’t realize it was _him_ ). Of course, both of them were. Her mother had managed to convince her to wear a ocean blue gown (with a slit in the side, of course, and pants beneath so that she could fight if need be beside their security, Malark) and a matching mask. Her hair had been braided back, unlike her usual preferred style, and she watched the group curiously. Malark was there as well, shooting uneasy glances at the dragonborn and the dwarf but doing nothing to stop the wreckage (apparently _he_ wasn’t a huge fan of her aunt, either. Made sense). He had turned to the youngest of the Whitlaw family (they, of course, were wearing their traditional masks) and was chatting amicably with him.

As the music changed, Rook (although she still hadn’t realized it was him) had looked up and seen her, walked over, and asked for a dance with a simple gesture. Being the hostess, she had taken it. It was part of her job.

“You know, I think you look very—very nice in that dress.” He mused. Had he been anyone else, and had she not had some form of suspicion that it was him, he would have taken a hit to the family jewels right then and there. “It’s a very nice party. I think it’s nice to see how well the country has recovered.”

Frowning, she tilted her head to the side. “Recovered from what, exactly?”

He started stammering again, and she frowned even more behind the mask. “Well—well, I mean the war and—you know, the fighting and everything. It’s nice to see that people still have high hopes.” Clearing his throat awkwardly, he asked, “Do you mind if we go somewhere private?”

“Sorry, but I’ve made it a habit not to go strange places with masked, unfamiliar men.” She replied coolly, and he took his hand off her waist to tilt the mask up. Beneath, she saw familiar light, reddish brown hair, the familiar scar running over his eye and down his cheek, and the familiar blue and grey eyes staring at her. Gasping, she quietly whispered, “Rook? How did you—”

“Swung an invite with the Whitlaws. I think Paddy’s taken quite the shining to Malark, but I won’t add anything on that.” Shrugging, he let his mask fall back into place and indicated a nearby balcony. As they went out, Gwing realized for the first time how stuffy the room (and the mask) had been. Slipping the mask up, she looked over at Rook as he did the same. Zenya appeared, fluttering onto the marble railing and squeaking until Rook gave her some bacon. _She’s putting on some weight,_ she mused with a smile as the little pseudodragon stumbled over to her. Reaching up, she dragged a finger across Zenya’s spines, smiling to herself.

“Nala’s missed her. She’s cooped up in the library, though. Too much time spent biting the ankles of stray senators and everything.” Turning to look at him, she wondered how much time had gone by. The last time they had seen each other, they had been fifteen. Now, at twenty-seven, both of them had seemed to have grown a lot. He was taller, with brighter eyes and a sense of power around him like any warlock would have. Something was off, though, in the way he looked at her. The moonlight didn’t quite shine in his eyes the same way.

She supposed that would have something to do with how much he’d lost.

Smiling, Rook held her gaze and then looked down into the courtyard, where a drunk elf with green hair stumbled around with her sun elf and goblin companions before tripping unceremoniously into the fountain. “That sounds like Nala. I’m surprised she’s still around, honestly—how old must she be?”

“Oh, one of the visiting senators that she took a liking to has a sorcerer for a son.” The thought of the young man—rather average in every way, other than his sorcerer abilities, with a kind smile and disposition (albeit a dull one)—came to her mind and she glanced at Rook. For a brief moment, she actually compared the two. But that was a thought for another time, when she could think about alternate realities where they had any chance. _Not that I would want that_. “He decided to give her some sort of anti-aging spell, I guess. She’ll be alive for quite a while, trust me.”

Nodding, he glanced away from her very suddenly. They chatted for a little while, reminiscing of the good old days while Zenya munched obnoxiously on some more bacon (really, she needed to lay off of it; she was beginning to look like a green bumblebee). As she studied Rook, she realized how different he looked aesthetically as well. Other than his normal physical traits, his clothing was different. Rather than the outfit he usually wore (which she rather liked; it gave him a sort of small-town, homey aspect she hadn’t realized she missed until that night), he was decorated with a tight vest-like jacket and dress shoes, along with nicer slacks.

When he gently touched his palms to the railing, he startled her from her thoughts and Zenya from her bacon. “Sorry. I suppose I should go make sure that Nagar and Gimgar don’t _completely_ wreck your home.” Smiling, he took the edge of the mask and asked, “I will see you later?”

Returning the smile, she arched an eyebrow, leaned on one hip, and replied, “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

He smiled, then slipped the mask on and ducked inside, leaving her alone with her thoughts once more.

After a while, someone ventured over. She turned, expecting to see Rook. Instead, she found one of her closest friends. “Hey. Didn’t think anyone else would be out here.” The girl apologized, and Gwing smiled.

“No problem. Do you want me to leave?”

“You’ll probably want to. I came to think about that warlock boy. You knew him, right?” For a second, Gwing debated telling her friend Rook was off-limits, although she wasn’t sure why. In that moment, a thousand different things that she had thought over flashed through her mind. She came up with an idea.

It was a moment she’d regret for the rest of her life, and she knew it before the words even came out of her mouth.

+++

Several years later, the country was thrown into war once more.

By then, Rook and her friend had already married. There was no changing that. Gwing had been the maid of honour at their wedding (and what a wedding it was, seeing as the Whitlaws and the girl’s family were very wealthy in their own standings, let alone with their resources pooled). While there, she had briefly mourned a future that had never been possible in the first place.

If Rook had ever wanted to be with her, then she knew why. She was a Veloce. Not only was she his friend, which meant he already knew her, her family was wealthy. He could only benefit from such a relationship.

However, she had her responsibilities. Her parents lacked any “heirs” by the standards of the older families. As a result, she would always have to marry (and not necessarily someone of her choice). She was just lucky that she had ended up with who she had. The young man who had extended Nala’s life, Tyland Columba, was nice enough, and his family would also work. It was her job to social climb for her family, and that was what she would do.

~~No matter what she would have preferred.~~

Walking into Rook’s garden with the news she had been dreading for a long time was torture. He and his wife were talking quietly while their eldest (she had very little doubt about what they were talking about, considering how she had that “glow” that their mothers had often talked about) played with Zenya. The not-so-little pseudodragon looked up as Gwing and Malark, her guard, appeared. The little boy with the bright blue eyes of his father and dark hair of his mother looked up. When he stopped, both his parents turned to look at her, and she smiled warmly while Malark stood at the edge of the garden.

While Rook’s son went to Malark to pester him with one question after the other, and his mother went inside, Rook himself went to Gwing. “Hello, Gwing. What’s the visit for? I doubt it’s just a social call.” He mused, and she once again thought about how much he had changed. His voice was different, a little deeper and a little more exhausted, with a hint of the accent that plagued the upper circles of their land.

Fighting to keep what she hoped was a casual smile on her face, she walked over to the closest tree with him beside her, talking the whole time. “Part of it is simply a social call, Rook. Although I’m not surprised you think that I only visit when I have news of some sort.” She looked at him, smiling, and he ducked his head. After a moment, she turned back to the tree. They used to climb trees like that, shaking the branches to make the five-petalled flowers fall to the ground quicker. Plucking one from the branches, she looked at it. “Although I guess you’re right. I’m sailing across the sea.”

“Again?” When she nodded, he prompted, “Why?”

Laughing easily (she hoped), she looked at him and replied, “Why else?” Nodding towards Malark and Rook’s son, she said, “I’m getting married, Rook. He’s wealthy, intelligent, and a good person.” Since he was close enough, she shot him a smile and added, “Of course, _he_ doesn’t fatten up his pets with bacon.”

Gaping at her, he asked, “Did you come all this way just to mock me?” The tone was light, teasing, nothing she hadn’t heard from him before but certainly something different.

“Obviously not. I came to say goodbye to my best friend. I don’t get to have much fun anymore.” She mused, hip-checking him, and he laughed awkwardly. Looking back at the flower, she turned and set it in his hair. It had grown some since she’d last seen him. “Don’t forget to write me, warlock.”

“Not a chance, ranger.” He replied, and she smiled. Malark cleared his throat from where she was, and she turned and smiled at him again. He returned it, although she swore there was some form of hesitation in his eyes. Like he didn’t want to let her go. But she must have been imagining it.

As she walked away from the garden, Malark by her side, all she could wonder between her lonely footsteps on the cobblestones was how things could have been different.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m in the mood to study the prologue video way too much right now, but all I can think of is that there are two people who I can’t figure out the identity of (both of the right hand side of the screen, green-gem staff and the person who has a poncho like Rook’s). Also, I don’t know who Roz is and I don’t think she’s Rosa but I’m not sure anymore.  
> Anyways, see y’all in the next fic!  
> Into the fray once more!


End file.
